


MH Ficpocalypse

by TeslaInMyPocket



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: All of my contributions to it, Ficpocalypse, Gen, Multi, Multiple unrelated stories, something for everyone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeslaInMyPocket/pseuds/TeslaInMyPocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of my contributions to the MH 2013 Ficpocalypse. Stories include kid fics, Craig Digsby, some Jam, grapefruits, and crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hoody and Masky

**Author's Note:**

> Ask Prompt (Anonymous) : Hoody gets a concussion and Masky has to take care of him.
> 
>  
> 
> Also Brian is Hoody and you will never convince me otherwise.

Brian was unable to remember the last time he had spoken. He couldn’t even recall the sound of his own voice. But behind the mask, there was no need to speak. The stitching and fabric brushed against his lips, erasing the urge to do so. His presence said more than he ever could. It was for this reason that he refused to scream in surprise when Alex appeared quite suddenly in his small shack in the outskirts of Rosswood. He didn’t reply to Alex’s taunts and jeers nor did he try to vocalize the pain shooting through his skull when Alex tackled him down onto the concrete floor. The mask hid the pain, and Alex hit harder for it. He need a reaction, something that Brian wasn’t going to give. The attack stopped quite abruptly, Alex jerking away. Brian blinked up in surprise, watching Alex shout at someone or something through the red haze of the masks fabric. He was gone in a moment, chasing whomever he had shouted at through the open door of the shack.

 

Brian rolled over on his side, pulling the mask off of his rapidly swelling head. His lip was bleeding, and he wouldn’t be terribly surprised if he had a black eye. The headache that was building in the back of his head made his eyes water. But Brian knew that it could have been worse. Rolling over again, Brian propped himself up on his elbows, attempting to stand. His vision wasn’t quite up to speed with his movements, the shack floor swimming before him. The urge to vomit was strong, but Brian repressed it. Crawling slowly on hands and knees, he made his way to the dingy mattress in the corner of the building and laid down. The headache was in full force, spreading with agonizingly slow speeds throughout his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, Brian focused on the sounds outside the shack, birds and wind, clutching his mask tightly in his right hand, attempting to drown out the pain.

 

It was nearing dusk when footsteps approached the shack. Brian found it difficult to open his eyes, the light of the setting sun streaming in through the open shack window entirely too bright. The smart thing to do would be to move, Brian thought. To clear the area. But his body wasn’t cooperating and the footsteps were approaching far too fast. Brian scrambled to put the mask back on, refusing to let Alex see his face in this state. That would be admitting defeat. As he slipped the mask on, matching up the eye holes with his eyes, a figure appeared in the open shack door, peering tentatively inside. Not Alex then, he would have charged in. Brian, although not quite sure that he was seeing properly, was able to distinguish that the other person, if indeed it was a person, was wearing a mask. Tim, then. Or rather, not Tim.

 

Masky moved delicately across the floor of the shack, almost silently had there not been so much grit on the concrete. Brian raised his head slightly off the mattress, incapable of much else movement wise. Masky stopped, tilting his head in a catlike way, observing Brian, who decided not to hide the fact that he was injured. It wouldn’t have gained him anything if he had. Masky stepped closer, and Brian noticed the water bottle in the water bottle in his hand. It was full, unopened from what he could tell. Masky knelt down at the edge of the mattress, silently twisting the cap off of the bottle and offering it to Brian. He numbly watching his own gloved hand take the bottle, his movements slow and dull. He lifted up the edge of his own mask, bringing the bottle to his lips. Somehow, it felt rude to remove his mask entirely in the others presence. The water was tepid, like it had been left in a warm car for some time. But it was better than nothing. Brian sipped on the water for a few moments, acutely aware of how Masky was watching him do so. He offered the bottle to the other, who promptly took it and put the cap back on, setting it at the foot of the mattress. It was nice to have company that didn’t speak back.

 

Masky, after several moments of silence, produced a small packet from his jacket pocket. Brian extended his hand, taking the packet without question. It was a single pill of Tylenol, in a package commonly given out to pharmacies and hospitals as samples. Brian wondered where Tim had gotten it. Masky watched silently, waiting for him to take the aspirin. With some difficulty, because he was still wearing his black gloves, Brian tore open the packaging and swallowed the pill dry. He had forgotten there was water available, but it wasn’t exactly the first time he had dry swallowed a pill. Masky seemed satisfied, although it was hard to tell with the mask. He perched at the end of the mattress, watching Brian, occasionally looking around at the shadows of birds flitting across the window, on their way to roost for the night. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, and Brian’s headache was a dull throb, much more manageable than before.

 

It was dark when Brian finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep. He hadn’t done so more than a few moments when there was movement from the end of the mattress. Brian felt a hand on his shoulder, and he could vaguely see the outline of Masky in the dark. The others hands moved very slowly, making clear what he was about to do. Gently, he removed the mask from Brian’s face. Brian wasn’t sure why he allowed him to do it, why he trusted him enough in the first place. Perhaps it didn’t matter. It was much easier to breath, Brian had to admit, without the mask. Masky sat down at Brians side now, watching him. It might have been unnerving to Brian, had he not been so tired. Closing his eyes, he attempted to fall back asleep again. Gently, a hand rested itself on top of Brian’s head, smoothing his hair back. The sensation lasted for only a moment, just quick enough to make it possible that Brian had imagined it. He was too tired to open his eyes and confirm it.

 

It was midmorning by the time Brian awoke, momentarily confused by his lack of mask. But after a quick search, he found it, laid out neatly on the floor beside the mattress, next to two water bottles, one the same one that he had drank out of the day before, and another packet of Tylenol. Masky was nowhere to be seen, and Brian had the feeling that he wouldn’t be returning. He had stayed with him through the night, monitoring his condition, and had left. Smiling to himself, Brian pulled himself into a sitting position and reached for the already open bottle of water. He decided to save the aspirin for a later time, when he didn’t have a silent companion to help him through the night.


	2. Some Jam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This also led to an actual Smuckers Jam fanfiction. http://whoaretheliars.tumblr.com/post/65579928633/please-write-smuckers-fanfiction-that-might-just-be-the   
> In case you wanted to read that as well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask Prompt (Anonymous) : You should write some JAM

Jay startled awake, flailing limbs entangling themselves in starchy hotel sheets. “Tim!” he shouted, looking wildly around the room. The bed beside his was empty and, from somewhere nearby, there was a thumping. That was what had awoken Jay. The persistent thumping. “Tim?” Jay asked again, scrambling out of bed. The thumping ceased. Heart hammering in his chest, Jay faced the door, acutely aware of how ill prepared he was to fend off an attacker. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. “Jay. Open the door, you idiot.” a muffled voice said, from the other side. “Tim?” Jay asked again, stepping towards the door. “Mmmhm.” the voice replied, more muffled than before. Jay peered out the peephole in the door, the dark hair and faded cotton t-shirt confirming to Jay that the voice belonged to who he thought it did. Unlocking the heavy latch on the door, Jay opened it for Tim, who stumbled into the room. His arms, to Jay’s surprise and confusion, were full of various breakfast items, which Tim promptly let tumble out of his arms and onto the counter. A various assortment of bagels, muffins, and mini boxes of cereal now lay scattered, some fruits and cartons of juice and milk mixed in. “There was a free continental breakfast, so I thought, why not?” Tim grinned, taking a bite of the bagel he had been carrying in his mouth. “You’re unbelievable.” Jay said exasperatedly, staggering over to the newly acquired pile of food. Tim sat down on the edge of Jay’s bed, taking another bite of his bagel. “I figure it will last us a few days, anyway.” he said, watching with a satisfied smile as Jay selected a small muffin for himself. “Why have I never thought of this?” Jay questioned, sitting down next to Tim, who grinned. “Because you’re an idiot.” he replied, smoothing down the back of Jay’s still messy from sleep hair with his palm. “Love you too, Tim.” Jay retorted, grinning back.


	3. Tim Kid!fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was between this idea and kid Jay and kid Alex having a slap fight over a toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask Prompt (Anonymous) : kidfic with any marble hornets character(s) of your choice

Tim didn’t really remember what his bedroom looked like, only a vague sense of it. He knew that it was blue, he remembered that. A light blue, like a cloudless sky. Like the scrubs that the nurses wore, that creased easily and were always a little too starchy. It had a bed, not like the one in the corner of his room at the hospital. It was a proper bed, with more than one sheet and pillow. He couldn’t recall if he had had stuffed animals, like he saw some of the other children carrying around the yard when they were allowed out. He wasn’t allowed to have stuffed animals anymore, but maybe he had been allowed to have them before he came to the hospital. If he thought very hard about it, he could almost remember a book shelf in the corner, full of books that his parents would read to him. No one had read him a book in a very long time, and the doctors gave him strange looks when he asked them to. By the age of twelve, he had stopped asking. He read for himself, hoarding a small stack of battered books in the drawer of his desk. Huckleberry Finn and Where The Red Fern Grows, among others. He had a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales too, that he had read once and never touched again. He knew that they weren’t real, he was told that they weren’t real, but he had been told a lot of things weren’t real.

“How are you today, Timothy?” the nurse who would sometimes ruffle his hair if he faked a smile at her asked. Tim didn’t answer. Instead, he drew his bony knees further up to his chest, hugging them to himself. He rested his chin on them, looking up at the window that was built into the top of the wall, too high for him to look out of. The glass was frosted anyway, allowing only light to make it through. He had had a room with an actual window, one that he could look out of, with glass that wasn’t frosted. But that was when the medication had worked properly, before he had started to escape. He had been moved to a new room not long after. “Not feeling very talkative today?” the nurse sighed, producing a small paper cup which Tim already knew contained his days medication. In her other hand, she held a slightly larger styrofoam cup of water, to go with the pills. She stood in front of Tim for several minutes, while Tim looked up out the window, pretending that she wasn’t there, that he wasn’t there. But the nurse was there and she tapped the top of his hand, which was still wrapped around his knee. “Come on, Timothy. Please take your medication? Don’t make me get the doctors to help.” she said, sounding very irritated. Tim looked at her warily, trying to judge if her threat to get the doctors was real. It had happened exactly twice before, and Tim recalled those occasions vividly. It had taken three doctors to hold him down, kicking and screaming, to force him to swallow the pills. He wasn’t allowed to go outside to play for two weeks after either incident as punishment. Slowly, reluctantly, Tim let go of his knees, taking the pills and water from the nurse. He swallowed them dry, sipping on the water only because the nurse gave him a stern look for not doing so. “See? Was that so hard? That’s how big kids are supposed to behave.” she said cheerily, ruffling his hair even though he hadn’t smiled and leaving the room. She locked the door behind her, like they always did now.

The medication took effect within twenty two minutes, and Tim knew because he had counted the minutes on the clock bolted to the wall on the opposite wall of his bed. The pills always made him feel drowsy, and he suspected that it was on purpose. He was less likely to run away when he was asleep. The pills also stopped him from dreaming. The nurses rarely had to come into his room at night because he didn’t wake up screaming anymore, not as often anyway. He rarely saw the faceless man, and when he did, he was too numb to run or scream. If he didn’t scream, the faceless man went away. He would just watch for awhile and leave. Tim curled up into a small ball on top of his bedsheets, staring at the clock whose hands were moving sluggishly in his vision. He tried to remember what his room had looked like. It was yellow, like the sun in the cloudless sky. Like the highlighter the therapist used to make notes on his papers when he talked to him. Had he had a bed? Tim squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember. He did not remember his bedroom, nor his parents or family. He remembered the faceless man and the nurse who ruffled his hair and the doctors who made him take his pills. He remembered the way the door sounded when its lock clicked in place and he remembered what the woods just outside the hospital looked like. He remembered what leaves and grass felt like on his bare feet, remembered how loud the tree frogs sounded in the woods. He remembered the nurses and hospital staff shouting for him, what the beams of approaching flashlights looked like. He remembered what sound a ballpoint pen made when it scratched across medical documents and psycho-evaluation charts. He remembered the faceless man, but Tim did not remember what his bedroom looked like.


	4. Tim and Craig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpawpaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask Prompt (Anonymous) : And then Tam was a elk with a weird guy in a vest talking about trees.

The forest was absolutely silent, something Tim found unusually unnerving. If Rosswood wasn’t creepy and ominous enough with the sounds of rustling leaves and small animals, it was doubly so without any of it. Tim didn’t recall coming to Rosswood, although he rarely did, nor did he know where he was going as he moved aimlessly down the trail, he feet making no sound as he moved over dead leaves. Something moved ahead on the path, just for a moment, disrupting the stillness of the place. Tim froze instinctively, unsure of what to do next. The movement had ceased, disappearing around two broad oak trees, and curiosity getting the better of him, Tim moved forward. This didn’t feel like the Operator, at any rate. He wasn’t coughing yet. As the trees came into view, Tim noticed a smaller man than himself, standing next to the closest tree. As Tim drew nearer, he noticed that the other man wasn’t so much standing as pressing his entire body against the tree, cheek flattened against its rough bark, eyes closed. He appeared to be listening. “Excuse me?” Tim asked, his voice sounding distant and echoing, like he was hearing it reverberate back from a long tunnel. The man sighed, sounding absolutely content. He did not open his eyes. He wore a maroon sweater vest over a plaid button up. His dress pants and shoes matched in an odd, retro sort of way. His mustache and glasses gave him the appearance of an old sitcom dad, although it was obvious to Tim that he was much too young for that. He looked like the last person one would expect to find in the woods, or perhaps exactly the sort of person who belonged in the woods. Tim couldn’t tell.

 

“Um…sir?” Tim said tentatively, not wanting to touch the other man. You didn’t just touch people you found listening to trees in the woods. The other man opened his eyes, looking at Tim in a curious, observant way. He removed his cheek from the tree, a bit of bark still stuck to him. His glasses were crooked now. “If you listen closely, and ask politely, the trees will speak.” he said. His voice sounded familiar to Tim, and much closer than his own voice. “What do they tell you?” Tim replied, unsure of what else to say. Perhaps it would be better to just walk away from this man, but he couldn’t just yet. “The trees give the best advice on stock market investments.” the man said in a very matter-of-fact tone. Tim nodded, not wanting to argue with the other man. You didn’t just argue with people you found listening to trees in the woods. “And what do the trees say about the…uh….stock market?” Tim asked, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. The man smiled, looking simply delighted that he had asked. “Ask them for yourself!” he said, taking a step forward towards Tim, grinning excitedly under his mustache that Tim wasn’t entirely sure was real now that he had stepped closer. The man pushed him towards the nearest tree, and Tim stumbled sideways, catching himself before he tumbled over entirely. “Ask them!” the man replied, stepping back and beaming at Tim in an almost unnerving way. His face looked remarkably familiar, but Tim could still not place it. Reluctantly, Tim pressed his ear to the tree. “Uh..hello?” he said, looking from the tree to the other man. The tree gave no reply.

 

The other man frowned, shaking his head. “You need to be a person to ask the trees for their advice. You will have to try the small stream now, for your financial needs.” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “What..what do you mean I need to be a person?” Tim stammered, thoroughly confused. “You’re an elk, Timothy.” the other man said in his matter-of-fact tone that made Tim look down. It was true. Where once had been legs and a torso was now the body of a tule elk. Tim was not in the least bit surprised. The other man was now extremely close, mere inches from his face. “Invest now.” he whispered gently in his ear before tramping off into the woods. Tim tried to follow him, but somehow the other man was always too far ahead. This was remarkable in itself, considering how difficult of a time the man was having with moving through the woods. “Jay!” Tim called, because he recognized the face beneath the mustache now. Jay stopped abruptly, whipping around to face Tim, his mustache crooked now. “Time to invest, Timothy.” he whispered, although the voice registered as a scream in Tim’s ear. Movement caught his attention, and Tim turned to find the nearest rock at his hoofed feet was moving. It was speaking, with what appeared to be his own mouth. Looking around in horror, Tim found his mouth on various trees around him, as well as leaves and logs. Jay was nowhere to be found. All at once, a soft ‘paw-paw-paw’ filled the silent woods, all of the mouths speaking in unison. His mouth, or rather mouths. Tim woke up.

 

Jay looked up at him from the bed over, looking startled. “You okay, Tim?” he asked, setting aside his laptop. Tim sat up, sighing heavily. It had been a dream. Of course it had been a dream… He was no longer an elk, at any rate. He could still hear the distant sound of ‘paw-paw-paw’ though. “Promise me you won’t grow a mustache.” Tim blurted, looking up at Jay, who looked confused about the sudden outburst. “I’ll think about it.” he said, returning to his laptop. Tim nodded, laying back down. It was one in the morning, and perhaps if he fell back to sleep, he could find out what he needed to invest in.


	5. Grapefruits Are Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic actually kicked off the ficpocalypse for me. And I love it dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask Prompt (Anonymous) : *whispers* Write a beautiful story about Alex's secret phobia of grapefruits

“Are we going to film or what?” Brian whined, shifting anxiously on his feet. Alex had asked the crew of Marble Hornets to meet at his house for a two hour film session, just to get some quick shots for a small scene. What had seemed like nothing important was now on its fourth hour of filming. Jay, Seth, and the girls had snuck off some time ago, leaving Brian and Tim to put up with Alex’s increasingly erratic behaviour. “Will you remember your lines this time?” Alex spat, his mood having turned sour an hour ago. “Oh, I’ll remember how to-” Brian started, before Tim cut him off, having judged by the look on Brian’s face that it was best to stop him while he was ahead. “Yeah, we’ll remember them, Alex.” Tim said, shooting a glance at Brian, who simply rolled his eyes. Alex scowled at the two, waiting for them to assume their positions. The two checked their stances, Brian folding his arms, Tim leaning against the wall. Both waited for Alex’s nod to signal that he had started filming. The nod came, and Tim had barely said his first line of dialogue, with perhaps less conviction the fourteenth try, when Alex screamed to stop. “What! What could it possibly be now?!” Brian shouted back, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender, “Please tell me how we fucked that one up, Alex. Please.” Alex did not respond, instead ejecting the tape from the camera and tossing it onto his couch. “I’ll be back. I need a new tape.” he muttered, stalking past the two and out of the room. “I’m not doing this anymore. I’m done.” Brian huffed. Tim simply shrugged in reply, following Brian out of the house.

 

The rest of the group were all sitting in Alex’s front yard, chatting in the balmy summer air. “How’s it going?” Seth asked, shielding his eyes from the sun to look up at Tim and Brian. “How do you think?” Brian retorted, sitting down in the grass as well, all thoughts of leaving the shoot temporarily abandoned in the absence of Alex. Tim followed suit, meeting Jay’s sympathetic eye. “Sorry.” Jay mouthed. Tim did not reply, instead averting his attention to Sarah, who smiled back at him. “Did you actually film anything? All the way through, I mean.” Jessica asked, sitting cross legged next to Sarah. Both Tim and Brian shook their heads. “Typical.” Seth grumbled. The sound of the front door opening made everyone look up. “Hey. I need you guys back in here. All of you.” Alex said curtly, shutting the door without waiting for a reply. Everyone was silent for a few moments, looking at one another to see if anyone would actually follow Alex’s directions. Jay stood up first, and everyone else followed, slowly, muttering darkly to each other. “I’m getting my lunch from my car. I haven’t eaten today.” Brian declared, walking towards his vehicle. No one else had eaten either, but hadn’t brought anything. The shoot was only supposed to last two hours, after all. The group waited for Brian, who returned moments later with a brown paper bag. Reluctantly, they all reentered the house.

Alex was waiting for them in the kitchen, pacing around with quick short strides. “Glad you took your time.” he spat, looking thoroughly irritated. The group packed into the small kitchen, sitting at the table and on counters, holding their scripts in front of them. Brian attempted to open the paper bag as quietly as he could, failing miserably. Alex paid him no mind. “Jessica. Jay. This next scene is between you two. Remember the context. It will be important for the emotion of the scene….lots of frustration, right? Especially from you, Ja-” Alex stopped mid sentence, his face contorting in disgust. “What is that?” he asked, addressing the group, his voice strangely flat. Everyone looked around in confusion, startled by Alex’s sudden change in behavior. “What, Alex?” Jay questioned, concerned. “Who is eating citrus fruit in my house?” Alex asked, his voice a strained whisper. Brian looked up, holding a slice of grapefruit in his hand. “Get out of my house.” Alex said, his voice no longer a whisper. He stared intently at Brian, his arms held at his sides, hands balled into fists. “Dude, chill out, it’s just a grapefruit-” Brian replied, cut off by Alex’s shrill scream of “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Startled, everyone jumped, edging away from Alex. Brian, trapped between the wall and the table, squeezed his way out, grapefruit slices tossed hastily into his paper bag. Alex continued to shriek as the group filed hurriedly out the front door. Jay was the last out, closing the door behind him. Alex’s shouts could still be heard. No one spoke for a few moments, staring at each-other dazedly. “How long was that shoot supposed to last?” Brian asked quietly, looking at the ground. “Two hours.” Jessica replied, still watching the door, from which Alex was still screaming behind. “Right.” Brian said simply, walking back to the door. Everyone filed back to their cars, pulling out in silence. Nobody mentioned the whole sliced grapefruit, which now lay scattered on Alex’s doorstep.


	6. What Does The Kralie Say?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask Prompt (nymm-kirimoto) : Explain the story behind this. Youtube - /watch?v=yoNOvX8Lly8

Tim wasn’t quite sure at first what had dragged him out of his sleep at half past four in the morning. The hotel was still dark, as far as he could tell, although his back was to Jay’s bed. And from the sounds of it, Jay had woken him. Rolling over groggily, Tim found Jay, sitting upright in his own twin sized bed, illuminated by the glow his laptop. He was trying not to giggle, busily clicking about. “What the hell, Jay?” Tim whispered, voice heavy with sleep. Jay looked up from the laptop guiltily. “Oh, hey..sorry.” Jay said, his tone not sorry in the least. “What’s happening?” Tim asked, dragging himself into a sitting position. When was the last time Jay had laughed? Had he even gone to bed? It did look like it. “I…I couldn’t sleep. So I went to Youtube. And one of the recommended videos was…well, I’ll just show you.” Jay said excitedly, clicking open a tab and turning the laptop to face Tim. The video played, apparently a music video for a band Tim had never heard of. It started off normally enough, a childrens song if Tim had to categorize it. But then….the lyrics took a twist. Subtitles offered colourful suggestions on how to phonetically pronounce what the fox was apparently saying. Jay was barely holding himself together, giggling into his hands.

 

The video ended, leaving Tim a little bit in shock. “What was that, exactly?” he asked, watching his friend try to compose himself. “It’s what the fox says, Tim. It…it says-” Jay couldn’t even finish the sentence, laughter renewing itself. “You stayed up until four watching this video?” Tim questioned, a little bit concerned that Jay’s sanity had finally snapped. “No! No! I was working on an animation to go with it.” Jay said, turning the laptop around and clicking busily, apparently pulling up a tab to show Tim. “I just finished it before you pulled up.” he said, turning the laptop around once again. Tim watched the video in complete silence, Jay still giggling a little. He recognized himself being portrayed in the video, along with Alex, Jay himself, and the hooded man. “I particularly like the antlers…” Tim said quietly to Jay, who was eagerly awaiting Tim’s response. “I’m gonna title it ‘What does the Kralie say?’” Jay said, stifling a yawn. “Why don’t you upload it in the morning?” Tim suggested, “It’s getting a little late.” Jay blinked at him, eyes weary with sleep. “Okay, Tim.” he said tiredly, closing the laptop. Tim got out of bed, plucking the laptop off of Jay’s bed as he settled himself in. Tim sat the laptop on the nightstand between them before climbing back into his own bed, a certain tune stuck in his head for what would be weeks to come.


End file.
